Thanks, I needed that.
By Adam Greene
Many times when I sit down at my computer and begin my internet travels I often think, “I wonder how one might make his cock very similar to a baseball bat.” Luckily for me, that information is usually no more than an Outlook Express icon click away. All the data I need to turn my penis into a large wooden club beams in from the ether right into my inbox. A quick open of the e-mail and now I know all I could even want or need to know about cock bat-tening. And knowing, as Flint and Lady Jaye used to tell us, is half the battle.
A moment ago I pulled in my first batch of this important, much needed information. Things that I needed to know so desperately that they were sent to me without me even asking. Awesome.
For instance, being a happily married Christian, you’d think I would have no use for a Christian dating site. WhereChristiansMeet.com knows better. Sure I love my wife and the Lord, so what better way to betray them both than by meeting other “like minded Christians in my area” and committing heinous acts of adultery with my sisters in faith? Very hot. But, then, that could just be the Hellfire.
If my tastes run a little more secular and risky, I could open the e-mail from “Lynn” with the subject line “cyst”. Wow. Not only could I desecrate my marriage vows, I can also be sure to leave with boiling Lovecraftian sores on my genitals. They must beat the guys away with a pock-covered cock bat. When I open it, I find I have a date reserved with Erika, thanks to the good folks at Messypipe.com. They’ve saved me all the trouble of arranging my VD implantation for myself. That’s good people right there. Thanks, Messypipe!
If my syphilis doesn’t kill me, maybe bullets will, as I have had the honor of being invited by MLXEntertainment to “keep tabs on JaRule and 50 Cent”. Fantastic. No one’s ever been gunned down doing that before.
The holidays are tough. I just ate and ate at all the Roman orgies I attended and, sure enough, I have the spare tire to show for it. Somehow the word has gotten out to Nutricore.com and do they have a diet product for me? Just look how delicious this blonde model is paid to pretend it is.
I can’t tell that she’s afraid to actually touch it to her tongue at all. That’s not fear in her eyes. It’s deliciousness!
Yoursmartrewards.com asks me a question I’ve never been asked before:
I can honestly say, I don’t know. The Burberry matches the pants my grandfather was buried in, but Coach is one of my all time favorite TV shows. What to do?
And that is but a sampling of the pure, unfiltered stream of critical info available to me in my e-mail inbox every single day. Don’t you wish you were this lucky?
Many times when I sit down at my computer and begin my internet travels I often think, “I wonder how one might make his cock very similar to a baseball bat.” Luckily for me, that information is usually no more than an Outlook Express icon click away. All the data I need to turn my penis into a large wooden club beams in from the ether right into my inbox. A quick open of the e-mail and now I know all I could even want or need to know about cock bat-tening. And knowing, as Flint and Lady Jaye used to tell us, is half the battle.
A moment ago I pulled in my first batch of this important, much needed information. Things that I needed to know so desperately that they were sent to me without me even asking. Awesome.
For instance, being a happily married Christian, you’d think I would have no use for a Christian dating site. WhereChristiansMeet.com knows better. Sure I love my wife and the Lord, so what better way to betray them both than by meeting other “like minded Christians in my area” and committing heinous acts of adultery with my sisters in faith? Very hot. But, then, that could just be the Hellfire.
If my tastes run a little more secular and risky, I could open the e-mail from “Lynn” with the subject line “cyst”. Wow. Not only could I desecrate my marriage vows, I can also be sure to leave with boiling Lovecraftian sores on my genitals. They must beat the guys away with a pock-covered cock bat. When I open it, I find I have a date reserved with Erika, thanks to the good folks at Messypipe.com. They’ve saved me all the trouble of arranging my VD implantation for myself. That’s good people right there. Thanks, Messypipe!
If my syphilis doesn’t kill me, maybe bullets will, as I have had the honor of being invited by MLXEntertainment to “keep tabs on JaRule and 50 Cent”. Fantastic. No one’s ever been gunned down doing that before.
The holidays are tough. I just ate and ate at all the Roman orgies I attended and, sure enough, I have the spare tire to show for it. Somehow the word has gotten out to Nutricore.com and do they have a diet product for me? Just look how delicious this blonde model is paid to pretend it is.
I can’t tell that she’s afraid to actually touch it to her tongue at all. That’s not fear in her eyes. It’s deliciousness!
Yoursmartrewards.com asks me a question I’ve never been asked before:
I can honestly say, I don’t know. The Burberry matches the pants my grandfather was buried in, but Coach is one of my all time favorite TV shows. What to do?
And that is but a sampling of the pure, unfiltered stream of critical info available to me in my e-mail inbox every single day. Don’t you wish you were this lucky?
posted by Adam Greene at
5:25 PM
2 Comments:
I continually get emails about losing weight, ridding myself of embarrassing baldness, and growing a man-size Johnson... how do these people know so much about me?
By
Anonymous, at 3:23 PM
I don't have time to answer this comment. The Crown Prince of Nigeria is in dire need of my assistance.
By
Adam Greene, at 4:03 PM
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